French Kissing
by lamatikah
Summary: Marluxia wasn't looking at the curtains because the design was pretty though, he did find it rather fetching, it was because he had no idea of what was going on.


**French Kissing  
marluxiariku**

Armed with his binoculars, camera and chips Marluxia sat down next to the window sill. He grinned and picked up the binoculars. Putting them to his eyes, he watched the curtain being drawn. He sighed. Yet again, they had closed the curtain. He picked up his camera and placed it on the stand he had nailed to the window – the exact place where the camera could watch the curtain, but more importantly: what was behind the curtain.

The man stuffed a chip into his mouth and watched, leering into the dark night across the buildings towards the window, hoping for a glimpse of what was going on inside.

Most people, after hearing this, will presume that "oh-ho, Marluxia, you perverted fiend", but this is not what you should be thinking. See, Marluxia belongs to one of the many people suffering from a condition psychologists call paranoia. It could also be connected with a subcategory of panphobia, but probing too deeply into this could cause brain haemorrhages so we shall merely skim past this poor man's mental health and move onto **why** he was doing this.

Marluxia was always snooping about – always needing to know what was going on, who was doing it, why that person was doing it, how they got to be doing this, where they were, etc, etc. But no one told Marluxia that curiosity killed the cat. Because, ironically enough curiosity killed any chance Marluxia had to leading a normal life. His friends all deserted him after a maximum of two months due to his "craziness"; his odd "hobbies"; his... mm, shall we say: big nose. Obviously, we all like to pry once in a while and if we were given a scale of one to ten on how much we like to do so, most of us could place our little arrow or dot – whatever it is we are using – and place it somewhere near the fours or the fives. Marluxia, on the other hand, would ask for a longer board.

So, as we can see, Marluxia wasn't looking at these curtains because he liked to look at people in their bedrooms. He wasn't looking at them because the design was pretty (though, he did find it rather fetching). He was looking because for three years straight, the girls had had that damned (but fetching) curtain closed completely, barring him from knowing what on earth was going on in there. He was stuck in his stupid little dorm, never knowing what those girls did in their dorms – always having to just guess. But, guessing wasn't enough, oh no. Marluxia was desperate for answers. He'd do absolutely anything to know.

In his first year, it had been a simple subconscious longing for knowledge into the subject. Second year, it had grown into a slight yearning. Third year, his longing and yearning had developed into something ugly. Something that made his eyes darken and his skin pale. His hair grew greasy and long as he didn't wash or bother going out unless it was absolutely required. His room mate had got so scared that he had run away and someone else had moved in. Marluxia didn't even bother finding out his name, all he knew about the room mate was that he had silver-ish hair and, judging by the posters, he also liked Blitzball - namely the Kilika Beasts.

He guessed that his room mate's only information was that Marluxia was named so and that he liked to look at girls' dorms.

He sighed and let his hand fall into the bowl of chips to pick out another one, watching the window opposite. He was always tired nowadays and it showed: the bags under his eyes were heavy and he walked with a dejected slump.

Suddenly there was light falling across the small garden outside as a young girl opened the curtains for a second before putting her hand over her mouth and closing the curtains again. Marluxia grinned as he looked at the camera he had just used. The picture on its face showed the girl (a blonde, wearing a white nightdress) with a smudged hand as it was about to come up to her mouth, another hand holding the curtain edge. Another young girl behind her (a redhead wearing a pink nightdress) seemed to be scolding her. But there was nothing else.

Well, Marluxia sighed, at least it was something. But not enough to release him from the captive hold of his yearning. He looked harder even though he knew that just staring more intently wasn't going to make them suddenly throw the curtains open and shout "HEY, MARLUXIA, LOOK AT WHAT WE'RE DOING!"

There was suddenly a slam and Marluxia jumped up. His room mate walked in, looking pretty angry. "Geez," he said, "You're jumpy." Marluxia glared and turned back round. "And what the hell is that?" the annoyed room mate said. "Why the hell are you always there: looking out that goddamn window? Don't you have better things to do, like, uh, I dunno: have a life?!" The younger burst into a fit of laughter. So he was drunk as well as angry. Gee, Marluxia was a lucky man. "Hey, answer me, dork!" Marluxia turned back round to the window, suddenly worried that he had missed something while he had been watching his crazy room mate. "Turn round, look at me and say something!"

The silver-ish-haired man fumed on the spot, his fingers curling into fists and his breathing becoming ragged and inconsistent. Marluxia turned round, glaring again. "What the hell's wrong with **you**?" Marluxia's voice came out throaty – prickly - as though he hadn't talked in a time, which was in fact the truth. "Just... Just to come in here and start on me."

The other man's fists curled more. "Well, maybe I have a reason, ya know? Maybe I'm fed up of coming here a-and you're just there," his voice was sloppy and uneven, making it even more obvious that he was drunk. "You're just _there_ and you're perving on tho-those **girls** over there and they– you know, they don't like it. Thass why they always close the curtains an-and stuff, mm." His words slurring and his 'th's becoming 'd's made Marluxia worry. The only other time he had been with a drunk person was when his friend suddenly turned on him in much the same way. His best friend. His longest friend. His ex friend.

He turned round again, mumbling something about "stop it, you're scaring me."

His room mate laughed, "I'm scaring you?" Another spurt of laughter erupted again. "Man, you scare me so much, you know that, right? You're a fucking scary person, right? 'Kay, you are, now you know. You're such a fucking pervert, you know."

Now he was swearing as well as slurring. This was becoming awfully familiar.

"God, I hate you. So much. You just... you just... have no life and no one cares about you and sometimes I think, "go on, talk to him, I'm sure he's nice" bu-but then you do something weird when I go near you. Like you-you turn away or you... shake your head. Or-or something. You fuckin' scare me." Marluxia froze as he remembered that _other_ time, when it wasn't just a random stranger he shared a room with. "I thought I'd be friends with my room mate."

He winced. "I'm not a pervert, you know." His voice was sticky, like he imagined it would be. Because, suddenly all he wanted to do was throw the camera and binoculars out the window, tip the chips over and curl up in a little ball on his bed, never to be found again.

"Oh, right, I gue-guess you mean li-like how I'm not a Beasts fan." The man gestured to all the posters round his side of the room.

"I just want to know what they're doing."

The man stopped still and let the information sink in. Then he said: "Like you're really gonna spe-spend all that time just trying to find out what girls do in their dorms. Pfft..." Marluxia nodded. Silver-hair held a hand to his forehead and groaned in what seemed like pain. "I-I don't believe you, you know."

Marluxia nodded, "I know," he said before going back to look through his binoculars. "But maybe if someone just told me or I saw something – anything – I'd act normal. Hm."

"I'll tell you what they do," the other said. "They practice..." he giggled slightly, "kissing. French kissing." Marluxia turned round, confusion slapped across his face. "You know who told me that? My good-for-nothing ex-boyfriend 'cau-'cause he was secretly going out wi' this bird an-"

"What's french kissing?" Marluxia asked. His room mate laughed. Silence fell.

"You don't know what french kissing is?" he murmured after a while of the two just staring at each other blankly. Marluxia shook his head and turned his head back out of habit. He deadpanned; that was what they did: they french kissed. Too bad he didn't know what french kissing was. "You don't fucking know wha-what french kissing is?" the other said, louder this time, closing in on Marluxia. His face glaring at the back of Marluxia's skull.

Marluxia turned round, unaware of the close contact of his room mate. There was an awkward pause as Marluxia looked into the stranger's eyes, a shiver crawling down his spine. The shining aquamarine glimmered dully in the bad lighting universities had. Then all of a sudden Marluxia melted altogether. He closed his eyes and felt pressure on his mouth. He liked this feeling, it was better than knowing everything, it was so much better. He gasped, as he felt a tongue slide in between his lips. His hands reached up towards the silver hair of his room mate, but before he could do anything, the man pulled away.

"Th-that's french kissing."

Marluxia turned round, hiding his red cheeks.

o x o

"Do you think he's stopped looking at us?" she whispered.

"I hope so – how can we play truth or dare with him staring at us?" another whispered back.

"I know... it's a scary thought," said one other.

"Yeah, he's gone," said a girl by the window.

"Phew, let's play, girls!"

x x x

an: yay, finally finished - now i just need to do the yuffieyensid -shudder- oh well, it's what hev wanted. i kinda like marluxiariku now xD but i doubt this would be enough to convert anyone else. i had BIG plans fo' dis but they sorta went tah pot. oh wellz. oh yesh, & i couldn't remember the name for when you're scared of not knowing OR the name for when you need to know everything so i just labelled it as paranoia, stamped wi' a pinch o' panphobia (which is a phobia of everything but not knowing why). aw, it would be horrible having panphobia ;-; oh wellz, hope you like it, indie :3

ps. any errors would be changed if people are nice and cute and helpful and point them out in reviews or pms danke :D


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